


I name this child

by Hypatia_66



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Babies, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 05:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17575112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: LJ Short Affair challenge. Prompts: barrel, orangeIllya and Napoleon stop to help and Illya loses his shirt to a good cause





	I name this child

Slowing down as they approached a sharp bend, Illya who was driving saw a car pulled over and apparently in some kind of trouble. A woman emerging from it was waving at them to stop. He pulled in behind the car and got out.

“Oh, thank God,” she said. “Can you help me?” Her hands were bloody.

“What’s happened?” said Illya. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s my daughter, she’s in labour. I can’t leave her to call anyone. Could you go for a doctor or something?”

“Better than that,” said Napoleon already opening his communicator and calling for assistance.

“Do you know what to do at all?” asked the woman, very relieved that they were staying. “I’ve done this myself, but not from this end.”

Illya lost a little colour and replied, “I was in the room when a baby was born, once, but I didn’t have to do anything.”

“Then at least you can stand by and help – please?”

Compassion had him over a barrel. He couldn’t just run away. Illya cast an agonised glance at the open door of the car from which unpleasant noises could be heard. “It’s all yours, partner,” said Napoleon, who raised both hands to fend off any request for back up. Happy to be in at the usual cause of procreation, he was distinctly queasy about the outcome.

Happily, there wasn’t room in the car for two midwives; instead, the grandmother-to-be begged him to strip off his shirt to wrap the baby in when it came. “Do you have anything sharp on you,” she further demanded. “We might need to clip and cut the cord.”

“If the need arises, I think I can find something,” he admitted, wondering if the blade in his wristwatch would fit the circumstances and hoping that assistance would arrive before it was required.

“Scissors, knife?”

“Something like that.”

“Sterile?”

“No, not exactly. But we have a first aid kit – Napoleon!”

Napoleon was persuaded to come closer with the box and he handed it over with eyes closed.

“Are there any scissors in there?” Illya said.

“Might be.”

“Well, have a look would you,” Illya said sharply.

“My advice would be to wait for the medics. They’ll do it better than either of you,” said Napoleon, waking up to a sense of responsibility.

“Quick with that shirt! The baby’s coming.”

Stripped to the waist, Illya kneeling beside the car, reached through the open door and caught a slippery bundle in his shirt.

He sat on his heels with his hands full of new-born baby, while its grandmother wiped its face and rubbed its tiny body. It started to wail and, to his astonishment as he clasped it to him, his heart contracted, and his eyes filled.  

The young woman lying on the seat said, “Is he OK?”

“It’s a little girl,” he said, sniffing a little. “She’s looks fine. Are _you_ OK?”

“I think so,” she gasped. “It was so quick. Oh, please let me have her now.” She pulled up her top and Illya rose carefully and laid the baby on her mother’s skin. “She’s beautiful,” he said.

Napoleon, watching for medical back-up at the bend in the road, now called. “I think the cavalry’s here.”

<><> 

They called on the family after completing the slightly interrupted mission and were greeted with cries of joy from Marilyn, the baby’s grandmother. “Oh, this is so nice! We couldn’t remember your names and we thought we wouldn’t see you again.”

Napoleon smiled benignly. “Well, that was some stressful situation. But _we_ remembered yours _and_ your address, and here we are to say goodbye.”

“Oh, but come in and see the baby – and have a coffee at least.” Marilyn was insistent. “Oh! And we still have your shirt,” she said to Illya.

The baby’s mother, Sue, appeared as they sat down. She was carrying the baby in one arm and had Illya’s shirt draped over the other. She sat down beside him and held it out. “It’s all clean and pressed – thank you so much.”

He went a little pink and assured her that it was no trouble, the medics had provided a tee-shirt. (It had had a bright orange trim and, until he found another shirt, it had further impeded their mission). “May I hold her again?” he asked.

She smiled and placed the child in his arms.

He looked down at her and hefted her a little. “She’s a bit heavier already,” he said. “What’s she called?”

“We haven’t named her yet – that’s why we hoped we’d see you again. We’d like to name her after you both.”

“What does the baby’s father say about that?”

“Oh, he’s easy. Men never know what to call a baby, unless it’s their dad’s name. And his dad’s name is Artie.”

The two men caught each other’s eye and grinned a little. “I don’t think you’ll want to call her after us, either,” said Napoleon. “My name is Napoleon, and his is Illya.”

The two women looked abashed and then thoughtful.

“I know,” said Marilyn after a few moments, “Eleanor, Ellie, for short – that’s sounds like Illya.”

“What’s like Napoleon, though?” said Sue.

Risking serious retribution, and avoiding Napoleon’s eye, Illya voiced a thought.

“How about Josephine?” he said.

“Perfect!” the two women chorused, delightedly laughing at Napoleon’s expression.

<><><><> 


End file.
